


Through a Glass Darkly

by rynling



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4362317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rynling/pseuds/rynling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While trapped in a painting in Lorule, Zelda witnesses a private moment as Hilda coaxes herself to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through a Glass Darkly

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to an anonymous prompt on the Dreamwidth community [areyougame](http://areyougame.dreamwidth.org/): "Lorule's princess pleasures herself in full view of Zelda's painting."

She was a princess, and she knew how to be still.

It was cold inside the frame, and dark, and quiet, and she could barely move, but she still had control over her mind, and her mind was calm. She felt as if she had been preparing for this very situation her entire life.

Zelda had become Hyrule's regent at a young age, and the pressure she felt when compressed into a two-dimensional image was nothing compared to the pressure she felt every morning as she took her seat in the throne room. After her audiences were concluded, and after her court had dispersed, she was finally able to move through the castle of her own free will. Her feet would often lead her to the gallery, whose walls were lined with paintings depicting scenes from the legend of the hero. Her favorite was the grand masterpiece showing the conclusion of the tale, with the hero standing triumphant, his princess before him. The princess in the story was Zelda's namesake, and she liked to think of the story as her own legend, the legend of Zelda.

In her daydreams, she was the princess of legend, but she had never thought to consider just how long the princess was confined in crystal before she was rescued. Her own circumstances were unpleasant, to be sure, and she had no way to measure the passage of time, but if the mythical princess Zelda could maintain her dignity through such a trial, then she would have to as well. The thought gave her courage, as did the prospect of meeting the hero. If only the hero would hurry…

A warmth suddenly spread across Zelda's chest, and the mist cleared from her eyes. On the other side of the frame was a young woman. She looked almost exactly like her, but her hair was jet black and her eyes were an unnatural shade of crimson. Zelda knew from previous encounters that this was Hilda, the Princess of Lorule. The skin beneath Hilda's cornet was red and irritated, and her eyes were rimmed with shadows. She touched Zelda's painting with her gloved hand.

"So this is the bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom," Hilda said softly. "I wonder if she sleeps without worry, dreaming that a hero will save her." She stroked the surface of the canvas.

"Did you know, Zelda, that Yuga comes to this chamber to study your portrait every night? I cannot begin to imagine what he is thinking, but I suspect it is not wholesome," Hilda murmured. "I do not trust him, but he is the only tool that remains to me. Were you ever in such a bind, sweet sunshine girl? Have you ever set your lovely feet on such a twilit path? Your eyes are so wide, and your face is so open, even trapped as you are, so far from your home."

She sighed and stepped away from the painting. "The least I can do is remove you from the sorcerer's gaze. Tonight we will sleep in peace, though this world may crumble around us."

Hilda raised her staff and brought its golden endpiece down onto the stone floor. Zelda felt herself floating, as if in a bath of warm water, and then she was swept forward. She was struck by an overwhelming sense of vertigo, but she closed her eyes and focused on her heartbeat, dull though it was.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the back of Hilda's head, her dark hair flowing behind her as she walked through the halls of her castle. There were few torches to light her way, and those that remained had burned deep into their cones, casting no more than a weak glow. The feeble illumination was enough for Zelda to see that the structure was on the verge of collapse. Lichens spread across dilapidated stone walls that were almost entirely bare save for an occasional tapestry spotted with mold. There were few windows, and many of them were cracked or shattered. Zelda attempted to orient herself according to her knowledge of Hyrule Castle, but the passages were too winding and their intersections too mazelike.

When they finally arrived at the upper solar, Hilda entered her study and faced a bookcase. Zelda could see over her shoulder that she selected a thick green volume, _The Histories of Hyrule_. Instead of removing it from the shelf, she pressed it inwards. A sharp click rang out from behind the shelf, and the bookcase swung forward like a door. Hilda stepped aside and swung her staff, and Zelda once again felt her balance tip sickeningly.

Her field of vision twisted several times and then settled, showing her the small room directly above the previous chamber. Her picture was doubtlessly now hanging on one of its walls. The opposite wall was dominated by a window composed of small panes of colored glass. It was positioned directly over a bed. The moonlight shone through the glass, casting a pale upside-down image on the coverlet. The picture it painted was of a hero holding a sword aloft. Zelda was surprised to note that his traditional tunic was not green but indigo.

Hilda emerged from the haze at the edges of Zelda's vision and placed her staff carefully on top of a raised frame. As soon as it left her hand, the floating Triforce at its apex vanished. With her back to Zelda, Hilda slid her crown from her head, placing it on a cushion underneath the staff. She turned, sat on the bed, and removed her gloves. She unlatched her ornamental shoulder guards and unhooked her belt. With deft fingers she unlaced her white cape and undid the bindings of her dark orchid shift. She folded the garments over her arm and placed her belt and guards on top of the small pile. All of her movements were efficient and precise.

Hilda stood and walked to another corner of the room. Zelda heard the faint sounds of splashing water and rustling fabric.

When Hilda appeared again, she wore a camisole dress so sheer it was partially transparent. She fell onto the bed and spread her arms above her head, gathering pillows to prop herself up as she regarded Zelda's painting. Zelda looked down at her, wondering what the princess would think if she knew she were being watched.

"You are so beautiful," Hilda murmured. "Even from within a painting, your pure soul shines. How I would love to see you in person, to hear your voice."

Hilda lowered her left hand to her chest and began massaging her breast. Zelda was shocked but rationalized that perhaps she was simply sore from the metal ornamentation of her formal dress. When Hilda began teasing her nipple with the palm of her hand before pinching it between her fingers, Zelda could offer herself no other explanation save the obvious.

Zelda wanted to look away, but she was unable. Even if she closed her eyes, she could still hear Hilda's rough breathing and the whisper of her hand over the thin fabric of her nightdress. She watched because she had no choice, but also because she was fascinated. Hilda had called her beautiful, and it stirred her heart to think that she had aroused the woman laying before her.

The light filtering through the window above the bed stained Hilda's pale arm indigo as she ran her right hand along the inside of her thigh. The hem of the dress crept up, and suddenly she was exposed to Zelda's eyes. The softness between her legs seemed to swim in the pool of gold cast by the yellow triangle on the hilt of the glass hero's sword.

Hilda's fingers began to move, tracing her valley and circling over her clit. She grew wet, and she began to plunge her fingers into herself, slowly at first and then faster. Her thumb remained above her opening, pressing harder and harder into her swollen bud. All the while she kept her eyes fixed on Zelda's painting, seeking refuge in an unspoken request that could not be answered.

Even if Zelda had wanted to say something, and even if she could have found the words to say, she understood that she would hold her silence. She was a princess, and she knew how to be still.


End file.
